When He Gets Sick
by mywarisalreadywon
Summary: Short little shmoopy story. Mention of teen!chesters. Set sometime during S1. Part 2 added.
1. Chapter 1

**Just some cuddly shmoop.**

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When he got sick, Dean always tried to hide it until the last minute. He stifled his coughs, hid the sniffles, and tried to ignore it for as long as he could. Unfortunately for him, Sam _always_ knew when he was sick. He always called Dean out on it, but Dean just shrugged it off. Sam, knowing that his brother won't admit he's sick until he's practically collapsing, lets him carry on. He knows it'll all hit him soon, and he knows he'll be there to take care of him when it happens.

Like when Dean was seventeen and their dad went on a hunt that was supposed to be a little longer than normal. A few days after John had left, Dean started turning down food and sleeping more, confirming Sam's suspicions that Dean was getting sick. Sam didn't say anything though, choosing to let Dean think he was fooling Sam. By the end of the third day of being sick, Dean was pushing through like nothing was wrong, and Sam left one of his hoodies on the back of the couch. The hoodie itself had been Dean's, but he had given it to Sam because John was hesitant to buy a thick coat for Sam while he was still growing; it was a layer for him to use in cold weather. Within minutes of the hoodie being left behind, it was picked up and wrapped around a fever chilled body. Sam chuckled to himself as Dean surrendered to the sickness plaguing his body. Dean had then curled up on the couch, and – grudgingly – let Sam take care of him. He grumbled and fought, but, when he though Sam wasn't paying attention, he leaned into touches and snuggled into Sam's side.

Now, even though nearly ten years have passed, Dean still does the same thing. Sam welcomed the duty of watching over his brother as a reprieve from thinking about Jess. So when Dean quietly sniffled and coughed into the crook of his arm, Sam jumped at the distraction. Dean didn't get sick often, Sam could only remember a few times, but when he did catch something, it always ended up knocking him out for at least a week. This sickness knocked him down after the second day. Sam woke up to Dean having burrowed into one of Sam's oversized hoodies and curled up on his bed. Sam reached over and felt Dean's forehead, knowing he must be feeling terrible by the fact that he didn't even protest. Sam made soup, tomato rice, and helped Dean to sit up and eat it. Dean, who was exhausted already, leaned into Sam, seeking comfort. Sam carded his fingers through his older brother's short, sweat soaked hair before he stood up and quickly grabbed some aspirin for the headache he knew Dean had. Sam smiled as Dean cuddled up to him, knowing that the older man would deny everything later. Sam let Dean tuck himself into the bigger man's side; Dean was always cuddly when he was sick.

Sam liked to think that Dean was partially aware of what he was doing. He liked to think that Dean was seeking comfort from Sam like Sam had always done when they were kids. Dean never actively sought out comfort or reassurance, but he always provided it when Sam needed him to. When Sam had nightmares, both when he was little and now, Dean was there; Dean was always there. Sam remembered all the times Dean was there for him, all the times he kept Sam safe, all the times he tried to give Sam a home, and he tried to put his thanks into his touches. He was pretty sure Dean understood, because he was always just the tiniest bit cuddly right after the sickness passed.

Sam was startled out of his thoughts and reflections by Dean's mumblings. Sam looked over at him and grinned as he caught something about killer squirrels and stolen pie. He gently rubbed Dean's back. Dean, not waking up, snuggled closer and pressed his face into Sam's chest. Sam sighed, running his long fingers over his brother's fevered forehead, happily noticing that it was better than earlier. He wondered how long Dean would let himself be taken care of this time. His record was a week. Sam decided to see how long he could drag it out.

When he woke up in the morning with Dean's head on his chest and Dean's arms around his waist, he didn't complain or wake the older man up. He just snuggled into the bed, holding his brother close. Dean never once complained when Sam clung to him as a child, so Sam decided that it's the least he could do to let Dean do the same.

Yeah, when Dean was sick, he got cuddly, but Sam didn't mind it all too much.

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**_Fin _**

**Reviews are love! Have a happy new year!**


	2. Chapter 2

**You know, I just had to do a companion piece. I found myself thinking about this during work and resigned myself to the fact that I would just have to write this, even if it's just to resolve my own appetite.**

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When he gets sick, Sam tends to make sure the whole world knows it. He used to be so much worse, but at least now he doesn't whine the _whole_ time. Dean always knew when it was coming, his big-brother-senses would start tingling, and he would mentally prepare himself for dealing with a sick little brother. First will come the headaches and all around fatigue. Then the sore throat will hit and Dean will silently rejoice in the quiet of the motel room as Sam refuses to talk and make his throat hurt worse. Then the coughing will start up at the end of the sore throat, causing Dean to consider earplugs. The congestion and runny nose combo will attack with the coughing, and Dean will scramble for all the tissues he can possibly find to shove them at Sam. Sam will pretend not to know that Dean is considering hiding in the bathroom for the entire duration of the cold, and Dean will pretend it's not a real option.

When Sam was twelve, he got a really bad cold that made Dean ache just thinking about it. Dad was off on a hunt, one of his longer ones, and wouldn't be home for a while. So it was up to Dean to take care of Sam. Dean scrounged up all of the extra money he could find and bought some heavy duty over the counter meds, talking his was past the check-out lady with the excuse that he had left his ID at home. He had forced the meds down Sam's throat, but they only made him loopy, and didn't really help much with the sickness. Dean had cleaned up Sam's snot, and even puke when he had coughed too much and his body revolted, without complaint. He made sure Sam ate and drank lots of water, knowing that the sweat from the fever was dehydrating him. He wrapped Sam up in hoodies and kept him in bed. He let Sam cuddle up to him, ignoring the fact that they were both too old for that. He kept up a steady motion of running his hands through Sam's long hair, knowing that it helped the kid relax. When Dean had sat down to read a book – the TV made Sam's head hurt worse – while he though Sam was sleeping, he had been surprised a minute later when a gangly almost-teenager had crawled onto his lap and curled up, softly pleading for his big brother to read to him; he had affectionately called Sam a wuss before he started reading to him.

Even though they're both grown up, Sam maybe a little too grown up, Dean will always see his little brother as the little kid he once was; he'll always see that small face with a mop of brown hair and a big smile asking him to read him a story. Dean knows Sam's slightly aware of what he's doing when he's sick; he knows Sam is just pushing his limits and reassuring himself that Dean does still love him. He knows that it's just Sam's way of making Dean participate in chick flick moments without it being too much. In a way, Dean likes those moments because he can care for Sam the way he used to, before he decided he was too manly to do that kind of thing. They're good for him because he can show Sam that he loves him without actually having to say the words, which would obviously ruin his image. He knows Sam knows how he feels, but it's nice for both of them to remind each other of that.

Sam's cold feet snap him out of his musings and make him pinch Sam's arm. The larger Winchester grumbles but doesn't wake up. Dean shakes his head and lets Sam cuddle closer, hoping that the sickness will at least keep Sam's nightmares away. Dean smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around Sam, letting him bury his face in Dean's neck. Sam's soft snoring and warm breathing lulls Dean, enabling him to close his eyes and hope for a better tomorrow. He knows Sam prays, but he can't bring himself to do the same. He believes in what he can see, and he believes in Sam, so that will have to be enough. Dean sighed to himself as he relaxed; tomorrow would be another long day of taking care of a moody, sick little brother, but he won't complain. He'll tell himself that he doesn't mind because Sam is safe and it's just a cold.

When he woke up to find Sam sprawled on top of him and snoring loudly, he didn't wake Sam up or even tease him about all of this. He simply pulled the sheets a little higher and closed his eyes again. It reminded him of a time when Sam trusted him with everything and anything, and part of him just never wants to let that go.

Yeah, when Sam got sick, he was a pain in the butt, but Dean didn't mind too much.

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**_Fin_**

**Okay, that's the real end now.**


End file.
